


Stanford Memories

by lifeofsnark



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Death, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 05:11:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3315350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeofsnark/pseuds/lifeofsnark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Jess meet over Christmas break of their junior year- they both think they are the only ones not leaving the dorm to rejoin their family, so it's a bit of a shock. Their relationship develops and they are both blissfully happy to have someone, but all good things must come to an end. And sometimes it's a demonic house-fire kind of end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stanford Memories

Someone was following Jess. It was the week before Christmas, she was practically the only person on campus, and someone was freaking following her back to the dorm. She dodged through a flower bed and sprinted for the door, the dry ground crunching underfoot. She scanned herself in and stood in the hall, listening at the door.

Footsteps thudded softly outside, approaching the door. There was an unmistakable beep as an ID was scanned, and a low pop as the automated locking mechanism unhinged. Jess scrambled in her backpack for her pepper spray. She’d been on campus for more than two years, and now was when she really needed it. She wrapped her hands around the small canister just as the door opened and an absolutely huge man stepped in out of the cold.

Heart pounding like a frat boy’s head after a two day bender, Jess thumbed the pin and pulled the trigger. A thin stream of orange mist pumping out of the container. “Ow! Oh, shit!” yelled the man, dropping his books to clutch his face, bending double in pain.

Jess thought about kicking him, but he didn’t seem to be much of a threat now. She took a couple steps back, unsure of what to do at this point. Did she call the campus police? The actual police? Barricade herself in her room? The man was still bent at the waist, rocking.

“What the hell was that for?” he yelled, voice a little nasal- probably from all the tears and snot his face was producing. Yuck.

“You know why, asshole, you were following me!”

“No I wasn’t, I live here!” he bellowed, blindly feeling for his water bottle on the floor. When he found it he began pouring it into his swollen eyes.

“You live here?” asked Jess, totally nonplussed.

“Yea, I live here,” he said caustically, “How do you think I got in?”

“I don’t know, I thought maybe you’d stolen some ID or had hacked the swipe. I don’t know how perverts work,” she said defensively. Sam was still blinking hard, but he seemed to have flushed most of the defense spray out of his eyes. They skin was red and puffy, and orange mist still clung to his chest, cheeks, and hair.

“No, I go here.” He pointed to the red Stanford sweatshirt he was wearing. He drew a wallet out of his back pocket and produced a student ID. “See? Sam Winchester. Nice to meet you,” he said sarcastically, crouching to pick up his scattered backpack and books.

“I’m Jess. Look, I’m really sorry,” she said, absolutely mortified. “I thought I was here alone, and I just ran out to get some stuff from down the street and then you followed me in from the parking lot and… I am so, so sorry. Why _are_ you here?” she asked, confused. The school closed after exams ended, and that included the dorms. The only kids who were allowed to stay on campus over the month-long break were the international students or those who received special clearance from the Office of Student Life and Housing.

Sam started walking down the hall to the stairs, annoyed when the blonde girl started following him, clearly waiting for an answer. “It’s just me, okay? Don’t have any home to go back to, so this is where I stay over break.” They ascended to the second floor and turned onto the next flight of stairs. “Now can I go? I’d really like to soak my head in a bucket of ice water,” he said nastily.

“I said I was sorry, a girl can’t be too careful these days. I’ve got some eyedrops that should help, come on.” Jess grabbed a handful of his hoodie and tugged him past the third-floor landing and on to the fourth. Deftly she unlocked her door, 48, and confidently wandered into the room. Sam hovered in the threshold awkwardly, looking around the room. The bed was shoved into the corner, a goose-neck lamp hanging over the pillow. He bedding was hastily pulled over the pillow and rumpled, a deep indigo throw lopsided and hanging over onto the floor. Her dresser was closed all the way, a few toiletries and cheap paperbacks scattered on the top. Her desk was meticulously organized, a large calendar covered in scribbled was hanging over it. It was the room of an organized person who was just slightly too busy to put every little thing away each and every time.

Jess knelt by her bed and slid out a plastic Tupperware storage bin about the size of a shoebox. She started leafing through it.

“Don’t you have a roommate?” Sam asked, shifting uncomfortably.

“No, I’m the RA of the upper two floors. I split the building with Mark, his room is on the lower level by the door. One of the perks is that I get my own room.”

Sam took a few steps inside, making sure to leave the door open. He didn’t want her to get the wrong idea again. “You have a giant first aid kit because you’re an RA, or because you are secretly a rugby player?” Sam asked, looking over Jess’ shoulder as she sorted through bandages, gloved, alcohol wipes, advil, anti-emetics, “condoms?” Sam asked, amused. “In the first aid kit?”

Jess looked up, her prim demeanor belied by the sparkle in her eyes. “Condoms are a perfectly valid item for a healthy life,” she stated. “But really, I’ve had residents come to my door and ask for some weird things, condoms included. It’s best to be prepared,” she laughed. She tugged out a small white bottle and pulled out her desk chair. “Sit,” she commanded, pointing.

Sam sat gingerly, not exactly sure where he stood with this girl. It was disconcerting.

“Okay, tip your head back,” Jess bossed, clearly comfortable in command.

“I can do this myself, you know,” he responded, resting the nape of his neck on the chair back, his lanky legs stretched out in front of him.

“I’m sure you can,” she said patronizingly, setting the cap of the eyedrops on the top of the scarred wooded desk with a little click. The little chair creaked as Sam shifted his weight. “Okay, one, two-“ drip!

Sam blinked against the burn. “What happened to three?” he groused.

“You would have squinched your eyes shut, I could tell.” She went for the other eye, and as she predicted, it closed immediately, the translucent skin of his eyelid covering the bright hazel iris beneath.

“Okie dokie,” she said, unfazed. With the index finger and thumb of her left hand she pried his eye open long enough to squeeze a few drops into it. She dropped her hands and Sam closed his eyes, a little wrinkle forming between his brows. She used that moment to get her first good look at the man that she’d pepper sprayed and then treated in her room. The only other person currently in the building. He was exceptionally tall, you could tell even when he was sitting, those long legs just going on and on. She trailed her eyes up his body- lean hips, flat stomach, broad shoulders, gangly arms- and wide-open hazel eyes flecked with forest green. Jess blushed and Sam flashed his dimples.

He sat up straight, and Jess moved to sit on the bed. He’d seen that speculative look in her eyes when she’d been gazing at him, and he figured that if she hadn’t thrown him out by now, she probably wouldn’t. He turned the chair towards her, and rested his elbow on his knee. “So why are you here over break?” he asked, genuinely curious. He thought he was going to be the only lonely soul here for the holidays.

“Same as you, this is home. Just me, I don’t even have a Hedwig.”

Sam had to digest that one. “Oh, right. Harry stayed over the breaks, But even he had his Aunt, right?”

“Wait, have you not seen the movies?”

“Um, no? I caught about three of the books but-“

“But! There is no but! It’s _Harry Potter”_ she said, flying across the room to a shelf of DVDs. “They’re the Star Wars of our generation!”

She looked so earnest that Sam just grinned. It seemed like a fair trade, he’d get some company and she’d have someone to watch her movies with. “Okay, fine. I’ll come up and watch them. How about tomorrow afternoon?” he suggested, checking his watch.

“I’ll see you then,” she said softly, walking him to the door. “And sorry about your eyes,” she said with a grimace.

“It’s okay,” said Sam. “Goodnight,” he said, gently shutting the door behind him. He walked down to his room, eyes still stinging, thinking that maybe this wouldn’t be such a lousy break after all.

~~~

Sam knocked on the door awkwardly the next afternoon, not really sure what to expect. Okay, he was nervous. He hadn’t spent much time around girls, not that they hadn’t been available. When he was with John and Dean, the idea of being caught horrified him, and he really didn’t want to turn into a love-‘em-and-leave-‘em asshole. Then his first couple years at Stanford he had been swamped with homework and suspended in disbelief- he was really going to live somewhere more than a few months. He was really getting the opportunity to get a degree. And now, well, maybe he’d psyched himself out over it. Every time he got near a girl he could just hear a little internal Dean talking in his head.

Jess opened the door, all long blonde curls and bright smile. Sam stepped inside, a box of microwave popcorn stretched out in front of him. “Movie and snacks, right?” he said, shaking the box. The kernels rattled.

She grabbed it. “Yeah, great!” she said, dropping it by the microwave before fiddling with a small TV and DVD player.

Sam looked around awkwardly- his options were the bed, the little desk chair, or the floor. He pulled the chair over by the foot of the bed and took a seat. Within minutes a tall, dark castle on a bluff appeared on the main menu, and the smell of buttery popcorn filled the room. Jess plopped down on the foot of her bed, a pillow between her back and the wall. She his play and tilted the bag of popcorn at Sam, offering him some. She hummed along with the theme, totally comfortable with her level of obsession. Sam wondered if maybe this is what normal people were like, if they had room for casual information like fictional worlds.

By the end of the movie Sam’s ass was numb, his back hurt, and he was watching Jess more than the movie. When Dumbledore came on screen, calmly talking to Harry in the infirmary and snacking on candy, her face softened. He wondered if she knew that she had filled her family void with a fictional world. He found it sad, and little sweet.

The next afternoon, Sam showed up for their scheduled movie viewing and found that she had created a little nest of blankets and pillows on the floor. “You looked so uncomfortable yesterday, I figured you’d be more comfortable like this.”

Sam smiled a little and sat on the blanket as close to the edge as he could get. He liked Jess, he really did, but this was moving a little quick.

Jess paid more attention to the almost six and a half feet of man lying next to her than she did the movie. He was so cute in a shy kind of way, always leaving the door cracked when he came in, so she would have to shut it herself. Sometimes she’s catch him glancing at her, and then she’d watch his color rise, tinging those beautiful cheekbones pink. He was definitely not the typical college male who would have pulled a move or three on her by now. She kind of liked that.

The movie ended, and Sam stood up to leave. _Whoa, is this kid tall_ she thought, feeling small and feminine in comparison. “See you tomorrow afternoon?” she asked, looking up through her eyelashes. “We still have two movies left.”

“Sure, I’ll be here,” he said, stuffing his hands deep in his pockets.

The next two afternoons were very similar; the two of them kept trying to sneak glances when the other wasn’t looking. For Sam it was slightly terrifying, and for Jess it was a little like being a freshman in high school again- it was clean and fun and set little butterflies dancing just under her sternum.

After _The Goblet of Fire_ rolled to a stop, the cliffhanger even getting to Sam, there was a long moment of silence. Their easy excuses to see each other had run out. “So tomorrow is Christmas Eve,” Sam ventured, trailing off.

“Yup,” said Jess, amused. “Got any family traditions?”

“Not really. It was usually just me and Dean,” he replied out of reflex. “Dean’s my brother,” he explained, tone stating he didn’t want to explain anymore. “What about you?”

She shrugged. “I usually take myself to go look at Christmas lights after it gets dark. I watch the people run around looking for last minute gifts, admire the decorations. Nothing big.” Jess had meant that to come out as a happier thing, but instead it sounded kind of… lonely.

“Let’s do that,” Sam said suddenly. “Let’s catch the bus downtown and go look around. We’ll spend it together.”

Jess smiled slowly, the gleam back in her eyes. “It’s a date.”

Sam bobbed his head, swallowed hard, and let himself out of the room. A date indeed.

It was chilly when Sam met Jess at the door to their building. They walked to the shuttle stop in amicable silence, both of them with their faces turned down against the wind. As they waited for the bus to arrive, Jess stood directly behind Sam, the tip of her pink nose almost touching the back of Sam’s canvas coat.

He craned his neck around to look at her. “What are you doing?” he asked, shaggy hair blowing into his eyes.

“Using you as a windbreak. It’s handy having such a big, tall guy around,” Jess replied mischievously. Sam turned around with a smile seemed to puff himself up as much as he could.

Jess pulled a similar stunt on the bus. All the seats were taken, people of all ages and races and genders huddled on the hard plastic seats. Sam grabbed the overhead rail easily, his elbow crooked, and swayed along with the motion of the vehicle. Jess latched on to Sam’s arm, smiling innocently up at him. Even through all of the layers between her skin and his, Sam could feel the warmth of her touch.

When their stopped was called in the typical garble of public transit announcements, Jess scampered down the stairs and into the bright street below. The stream of people on the sidewalk parted for a moment as the shuttle passengers disembarked before clumping together in a flow of humanity. The buildings were lit with little white lights, which stretched overhead into the branches of the bare trees. Wreaths were hung on the doors of some of the shops, and the balconies above were wrapped in garland. Sam and Jess walked quietly for a minute, breathing in the smells of melted chocolate and warm cake from the bakery, the tang of hot coffee from across the street, and the almost metallic bite of cold winter wind.

Jess pointed to a man, about thirty, who was hurrying into a shop that sold gourmet nuts and dried fruits and local wines. He had a scarf wrapped around his neck, and his expensive-looking peacoat was only half buttoned. “What’s he shopping for?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow up at her companion.

Sam thought for a moment, not sure how to answer. “Well, he’s clearly in a hurry. He didn’t have his coat all the way buttoned, so he probably drove down here himself. He’s not getting jewelry or toys, so he isn’t shopping for a woman or a child. I’d guess that he’s on the way to some Christmas Eve party and forgot to bring something.

“Very good,” mused Jess. “Good looks and brains. Okay, what about her?” This time Jess pointed to a harried looking woman rushing into the bakery. “Nobody runs like that just to get themselves a treat.”

“Hmm…” Sam mused, catching on to the game. “Her mother-in-law is in town and always finds fault in everything she does. This poor lady burned the Christmas cookies and can’t stand to take the fall, so she is trying to find replacements.”

“Relatives,” said Jess in an overly-solemn voice, shaking her head gravely. “I think we’re the lucky ones, Sam.”

He looked down at this woman he’d only known a short time, a girl who was just as alone as he was but smiled despite it all. A girl who had substituted a fictional world for real family and was too smart for her own girl. Sam smiled, his dimples framing his grin. “You know what, I think we are.” Slipping his hand down her arm, he wove his fingers through hers. They moved off, looking into the brightly lit shops and laughing at the panicked shoppers until the crowd thinned. They rode the shuttle back to campus and wandered back to their building, Conrad Hall, still hand in hand.

“Come in?” Jess queried, standing in front of her door.

“Sure,” Sam responded, not willing to let this night end just yet. Jess moved to the little refrigerator and poured to cups of what turned out to be eggnog. Sam sat on the foot of her bed and leaned against the footboard, leaning forward to tap the rim of his cup to Jess’.

“You never did tell me why you’re here,” he asked after a moment.

Jess sighed, setting her drink on the top of the tiny refrigerator. She settled back into the pillows, resting her wool-sock clad feet in Sam’s lap. He startled.

“My parents died when I was in middle school. Drunk driver, late night, back road. From there I was shipped off to my spinster aunt’s house. She was great, just loved me to pieces. When I was in high school she got breast cancer… she died just before I graduated. I almost didn’t come to college, but we’d already talked about it. She wanted me to go on with my life. She put a fund together for me that’s paying for this,” she gestured around the room.

Sam closed his eyes. This poor girl, she’d lost everyone she ever had. “Jess, I’m- I’m so sorry,” he said, stretching up to rest his hand over hers. She gave him a half-smile.

“It’s what it is,” she mumbled, shrugging a little. “What about you?” Jess focused her gaze on Sam, and for a second he couldn’t react or think or breathe- he’d made eye contact with Jess over the week they’d been hanging out together, but it had been in the form of angry glares, flirtatious glances, or smiling, sparkling looks. For the first time the concentrated power of those baby blues were focused on Sam, and he didn’t think he’d need oxygen again. Her gaze was steady and focused, a darker ring of navy circling her pupil.

Finally Sam made it back to himself. He turned his gaze to the wall, thinking quickly. “Oh. Right. My mom died when I was a baby in a housefire, I don’t remember her at all. I was raised on the road with my brother, Dean. We lived in motels and this old car, mostly.”

Jess looked horrified, like she wanted to go back and find baby Sam and give him something better. “God. What did your father do?”

_If you only knew, we would not be having this conversation. Pepper spray would only have been the beginning_ Sam thought to himself snarkily. “He just went from town to town and job to job,” he said. It was, technically, the truth. “Dean took care of me most of the time.”

“Why aren’t you with him for Christmas? Dean can’t be too bad,” she questioned. It was clear that Jess had already made up her mind about John Winchester.

Sam heaved a great sigh, air blowing through his pouted lips. “I knew I wanted out of that life. When I got into Stanford, I was hoping dad would be proud of me- or at least just okay with it. I mean, what parent doesn’t want their kid to get a full ride to a good college? Anyway, I showed him the letter and told him when I was leaving, and he just blew up. It was the angriest I’d ever seen him. It boils down to him telling me that if I left, it was for good. He never wanted to see me again.”

Jess crawled across the bed and sat behind Sam, wrapping her arms around his thin waist. “I’m so sorry, Sam. You didn’t deserve that, I don’t care what he thinks. But that doesn’t explain why you aren’t trying to see Dean?”

“I was really hoping he would come with me. I mean, he practically raised me, I didn’t want him to get sucked into a life on the road. He told me that he couldn’t do it to Dad; that somebody needed to stay behind and make sure he stayed alive.”

“He sounds loyal,” she remarked.

“He is,” Sam agreed. “Just not to me.”

“I don’t think so,” mused Jess, even knowing that this could upset Sam. “You can take care of yourself, he must know that. It sounds like he thought your dad needed him more than you did.”

“Yeah, maybe,” said Sam, swallowing the rest of his eggnog in a gulp. Jess unwrapped her arms, and he stood to go. “Thanks for everything,” he said quietly. Bending almost in half to reach down to where Jess was sitting, he kissed her gently on the cheek before slipping into the hall and closing the door behind him.

Jess could still feel the soft brush of his chapped lips over her skin. _Merry Christmas_ she thought to herself.

Sam woke up to pounding on the door. He knew it could only be one person, and slowly pushed himself up off of his belly and grabbed a pair of sweats. Cracking the door he peered around it, keeping his body hidden behind the solid wood. Jess was outfitted in some kind of tight black pants, a red and white striped sweater, and a headband with reindeer antlers on it.

“Merry Christmas!” she crowed, pushing her way into the room. “Oh,” she said, eyes widening as they took in Sam’s bare chest and rumpled hair.

“Merry Christmas,” Sam echoed, shifting in discomfort. “Um, just let me…” he trailed off as he scurried around the room, grabbing clothes and a plastic box of shower stuff. He rushed into the adjoining bathroom, and Jess heard the water click on.

She sat down on the edge of his bed and looked around the room. It was clean and tidy, the bed of his roommate stripped down to the mattress. Sam’s corner of the room was well organized- a laundry hamper under the bed, desk neat and clear, and almost all available shelving covered in books of all kinds. Jess imagined that until his move to Stanford he had never really had belongings of his own, that he had clothes and maybe a laptop for schoolwork. He’d never had a space to belong, some trinket with purely emotional value.

The shower cut off with a squeal of pipes and a few minutes later the door creaked open as Sam came out. He was wearing jeans and a green Henley shirt, his feet bare, hair several shades darker and pushed back from his face. He dropped the shower stuff on the edge of the sink and went to the dresser, pulling out a roll of socks.

“What do you want to do today, Jess?” he asked, tugging on the footwear. Jess thought he was quite possibly the cutest thing she had ever seen.

“One of the local networks is having a Christmas movie marathon” she chirped, bouncing slightly on the bed.

“So you’re saying that you want to spend all of Christmas watching the TV and doing absolutely nothing,” Sam pretended to accuse, hands planted dramatically on his hips.

“Yes. Yes I am,” she fired back, sure of herself.

“Well, come on then,” said Sam, and they wandered through the chilly halls back to her room.

“Wow, what smells so good?” asked Sam as soon as the door was cracked. Spying a slow cooker on the desk, he went to investigate. ‘Pot roast? I thought we weren’t supposed to have these.”

“We aren’t, but hey- nobody ever checks the RA’s room now do they? I figured we deserved a good Christmas dinner.”

The day passed in a blur of holiday cheer, old movies playing on the TV. In the years to come Sam wouldn’t remember what they watched or even what they talked about- he would recall the way she sidled up to him slowly, and eventually they ended up lying back on a pile of pillows, Jess ensconced in the warm spot under his arm, head on his shoulder. They ate together, laughing over stupid little memories of Christmases gone by- apparently one time Jess’ parents had wrapped up a more _adult_ present and accidentally labeled it with her name- and when Sam left that night, he once again kissed Jess on the cheek, whispering “Merry Christmas” in her ear.

As the days ticked by, Sam couldn’t believe that he’d known Jess only about two weeks- it somehow felt much longer; and he became more and more comfortable with her each day. His favorite thing to do quickly became reading together with Jess. They would put on some quiet music or just let the silence envelope them as they crawled into Jess’ bed with books. Sam would lean against the pillows and Jess would lean against him, her back flush to his front. He realized that he got about half the amount of reading done this way, but it was worth the opportunity to play with Jess’ soft hair.

New Year’s Eve found Sam standing outside Jess’s door, a six pack of beer in his hand. He’d kept one of his fake IDs from his road days with Dean and dad, and really, at 6’4” what tired store clerk was going to second guess him.

Jess popped the door open, he radiant smile the first thing Sam sees. “Come in!” she says, grabbing him by the shirt front. She has this habit of just reaching out and grabbing him when she wanted his attention or pushing at him until he moved where she wanted him. It was endearing, she was so confident and tactile. “Hey there!” she said, kissing him on the cheek. They settled in, and Jess drew a blanket over her legs. Sam didn’t say anything even though he was uncomfortably warm well before the clock clicked to 9:00pm.

Jess had a book resting on her lap, and Sam’s arm went around her as he held up his own book. He was working his way through _The Da Vinci Code_ and Jess was rereading _A Ring of Pure and Endless Light._ At 11:30 an alarm beeped, and Jess jumped up to flip on the television.

“We have to watch the ball drop, it’s a tradition,” she declared, crawling back into Sam’s arms. “What are your resolutions?” She craning her neck to look at him.

_To keep you with me as long as I can_ Sam thought to myself. “I don’t know,” he said out loud. “I’ve never bothered with them before, usually I was just trying to stay alive another year.”

Jess pursed her lips, nodding. “Yeah, that’s good. Another year alive is always good.”

“What about you?” he asked as the crowd in Times Square began the thirty second countdown.

“I’m going to go after what I want this year,” she replied, dimpling. When the timer got down to ten, she and Sam joined the countdown.  “Happy New Year!” she crowed before promptly turning around, putting her palms on each of Sam’s dimpled cheeks, and laying her lips smack on his.

“Step one of going after what I want,” she said with a wink.

“Yeah?” Sam countered, one eyebrow raised as Jess settled herself more comfortably in his lap. “I think this is going to be a good year.”

He slid his hands up her back slowly, savoring the feeling of her soft body under his hands. He splayed on hand between her shoulder blades while letting his other slide up to twist in her curls. Her mouth was hot and moist as she pressed more tightly against him. She licked along the seam of his lips, and if she picked up on his naiveté, she didn’t let on.

Jess was happier than a cat in a whole dairy full of cream. She was solidly ensconced in Sam’s lap, and though he wasn’t the most experienced kisser he made up for that with endearing enthusiasm. Tentatively his tongue swept across her bottom lip and slid against the tip of her own, tasting her. She tightened her fists in the silky hair at nape of his neck, trying to tug him closer. He complied, banding his long arms around her waist and squeezing her tightly.

Eventually she pulled back, panting a little, looking down into Sam’s hazel eyes, the pupils wide, his cheek flushed. “Wow,” he murmured, gazing up at her.

“Wow yourself,” she purred, smooching him on the end of his straight nose.

He dropped his gaze to his lap, shaking his head a little. “Jess, I, well, I don’t really know what I’m doing. With any of this.” He looked up at her, all nerves and sad puppy eyes.

“That’s okay, Sam. It’s just me. Here”- she rearranged them so their heads were resting on the same pillow, his arm draped over her waist. “Much better.”

They looked at each other for a few minutes, occasionally leisurely exploring each other’s mouths and faces with slow kisses. “Stay tonight,” Jess whispered.

Sam stiffened. “Oh, but I don’t, um. Well, I mean. Jess…”

Her lips quirked. “I meant like this. To actually sleep, and just be near each other.”

Sam relaxed, form melting back into the thin dorm mattress. “Right. Yeah, I’d like that,” he whispered. Jess leaned over him to click off the light, and he tugged the blanket up over both of them. Occasionally one would softly question the other, murmuring about old dreams and nightmares, warm breath caressing the other’s cheek. Eventually they fell asleep, Jess’ head tucked up under Sam’s strong chin.

This was the first of many, many nights they would spend together in the year to come. Eventually Sam would be able to tell how deeply asleep Jess was by the pattern of her breathing; she would know how much he’d had to drink by the timbre of his soft snores. One day Jess would learn she only slept deeply when Sam was next to her, that having his huge body curled around her, radiating heat like an old-fashioned steam engine, made her feel more safe than she had ever been in her life. When Jess went away with girlfriends for a weekend Sam would discover that he had fewer nightmares when she was with him, that her soft presence nestled against him warded off terror of all kinds. Despite all the nights to come, this first night with them innocently curled under a worn afghan together, would always stick in Sam’s mind.

Over the next month or so, Sam and Jess were practically inseparable. They met for breakfast and dinner whenever they could, and were often found sharing a table at the library, sending each other sideways glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking.

Jess fascinated Sam- she was so outspoken and confident in her opinions and had the brains to back them up, but she was terrified of spiders and refused to eat sprouts. She was willing to have hour long conversations dissecting the plots and character arcs of Tolkien books, but huffed when a mutual friend selected a Will Farrell movie to watch. And as she had been since the beginning, she touched people all the time. She’d play with Sam’s hair when they sat next to each other, caress the back of his hand with her thumb when their fingers were intertwined. She’d rest her head on his shoulder or lean into him at the bus stop, and Sam soaked it in like a sponge, drinking in the casual affection.

Like everything in life, this relationship had high points and low points. Jess found Sam hunched over a table in the library, a spreadsheet open on his battered laptop. “What are you working on?” she asked, concerned at the way his left hand was fisted in his hair.

“Paperwork crap, I’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah? Maybe I can help,”

“I’ve got it,” he snapped, hunched over the laptop.

Jess stepped back and thought about bitching him out, but decided to be the bigger person. She sat down on the other side of the table and started wading through her homework.

The next day Sam didn’t show up in the dorm until well after his usual time. When he did finally stomp into Jess’ room, he tossed his stuff by the door and fell on the bed with a deep sigh.

“What is going on, Sam? I’m tired of the moping! How are we supposed to spend all this time together if you won’t talk to me? I get it. I really do, the tall, manly, silent thing. Now cut the crap.”

“Fine, Jess. With this new year it’s now a law that all students enrolled in public universities have to have health insurance- I can’t afford that, and school won’t let me stay in classes until I show them proof of insurance which I can’t afford! The only reason I’m even here is because I have a scholarship!”

“Why didn’t you say something Sam? They have healthcare available for students through student unions, or I could add you to my plan! This isn’t worth getting thrown out in your junior year, sweetheart.”

Like everything that Sam and Jess did together, they fixed this problem. Sam found a student union with low prices that would allow him to join, and Jess scouted up an on-campus office job for him when Sam refused to let her pay. When he found out the position was his, Sam cupped Jess’ face and asked, “What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn,” she dimpled back. The office job paid for the insurance, and their little world spun on.

Sam started sleeping in Jess’ room almost every night, and slowly found his belongings mixed in with hers. His jackets hung by her dresses; his toothbrush crossed hers; his jeans got mixed into the same load of laundry. They didn’t really talk about it, their lives just merged together, like the roots of two trees twining underground.

One early morning in that deep lavender hush before the dawn Sam woke up hot, too hot, far too hot with the sensation that his skin was shrinking over his body. When something tickled he cracked open his eyes to see Jess’ luxurious and tousled curls brushing over his abdomen as she sucked the head of his cock into her mouth. Her deep blue eyes flicked up to him as he fisted his fingers in the sheets, groaning, “Jess…”

She hummed a bit in response, sending vibrations up his shaft. His thighs twitched. Running her tongue along the underside of his dick, she teased his little rough patch with the tip of her tongue while squeezing her hand around the root of him. Seeing his reaction, Jess’ lips quirked, and she slowly reached down to cup Sam’s balls. At this he let out a little cry, more out of surprise than anything else, before releasing a hiss of pleasure. She could see the muscles in his abdomen twitching now, and set about finishing him off. Rolling her lips back tightly over her teeth Jess sucked him hard, her cheeks hollowing, while her saliva-slicked fist pumped up and down in rhythm.

Sam yelped, his back bowing off the bed like he’d been hit with an electric current. Thighs quaking, he came, salty musk rolling down Jess’ throat. She waited until he was panting and boneless on the bed before she slid him out of her mouth with a pop.

“Jess… that was… wow.”

“Well aren’t you eloquent,” she teased, scooting up to give him a smooch and rest her head on his arm.

Sam rolled over her, one of his long arms wrapped beneath her, firmly holding her shoulder. Jess sucked in a breath; this was a side of Sam she hadn’t seen before. He ran his nose along her jawline before suddenly pinching the sensitive skin behind her ear with his teeth. She caught her breath, running her hands along Sam’s back, feeling his muscles and tendons shifting under his skin.

He cruised from her neck to her collarbone, nibbling lightly along the thin skin he found there. Jess moved beneath him, restless; Sam used the hand beneath her to lever her torso off the bed, giving him a chance to tug off the shirt she was wearing- his shirt- and toss it on the floor.  He didn’t pause, he just craned his head to the side and sucked her tight nipple between his lips. Rolling it against the roof of his mouth, he tugged, listening to her breath whoosh out of her nose. One of his beautiful, huge hands slid along her ribcage onto her neglected breast; he kneaded, rolling the nipple between his thumb and first finger. Exerting pressure, he lowered Jess back onto the bed.

Jess lifted her head off the pillow as Sam’s lips grazed down her ribs and belly. She saw a flash of teeth before he bight her lightly in the sensitive crease where thigh met torso. She moved her hand to the top of his head, not sure if she was trying to stop him or urge him on. He glanced up at her, concerned, before continuing to explore her body with his lips and hands.

Sam was thrilled to discover that Jess’ moles and freckles did, indeed, extend everywhere. He kissed a particularly adorable little mark on the top of her thigh before looping his long fingers through the sides of her panties and pulling. She lifted her hips just enough for him to get the scrap of lace and cotton down and off.

Sam wasn’t sure what he was doing, but over the course of his life he’d learned to trust his instincts, and he relied on them now. As a kid Dean had decided to take Sam’s sexual education into his own hands using skin mags and free internet porn as references. Sam had been so horrified that not much stuck in his mind, horrifying images aside, but one point had been made perfectly clear- the clitoris was a thing to be worshipped, and a man who ignored it should have his fingers and tongue removed.

This was all swirling through Sam’s head as he licked a stripe up Jess’ cleft, gently parting her with his thumbs. Head thrown back on the pillow Jess widened her legs, eager for Sam’s attention. She smiled at the ceiling a little, Sam’s hesitant licks and sucks more erotic than they really should be; his innocence and determination only feeding back into her arousal. With a sudden jolt he found her clit and tugged it with his lips; Jess’ gasp confirmation that he was on the right track.

Confidence growing exponentially, Sam set about his task, experimenting with different pressures, flicking the tight little nerve bundle with his tongue before drawing on it as though it was a candy he could not get enough of . Jess whimpered and twitched, her stomach muscles tightening like an overwound clock. Sam’s clear fascination and unpredictability was keeping her perpetually on the edge. Finally his long, thin fingers joined the game, smoothly sliding inside to massage and explore.

With a yelp Jess came, her back bowing off the bed, her thighs clamping around Sam’s ears. Sam continued his attentions until Jess grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked him away from her oversensitive clit. He slid up her body, rubbing his mouth on his shoulder as he went. Jess nuzzled against him, waiting for her body to attain some form of equilibrium. Sam grinned, thinking that she was the most perfect thing he had ever seen.

Sam jumped when Jess sat up, dangling herself over the edge of her bed to grab the box of medical stuff. With a grunt of “Ah ha!” she pulled out a strip of condoms. Carelessly throwing the extras over the side of the bed like so much flotsam from a ship she tore open the little packet and rolled the latex over a very turned-on Sam Winchester.

Jess tossed her long hair over her shoulder and swung a leg over Sam, letting her hot center rest low on his abdomen. Those huge hands of his came up to lift her breasts, his thumbs rubbing back and forth on her beaded pink nipples.

With a smirk she bent low to lick over a small nipple of his own, letting her soft breasts run over his chest. He groaned a little, his fingers still latched onto her nipples, sending shooting rays of hot arousal straight through her gut into her wet core. She moved her hand between them, seated Sam’s arousal at her entrance, and sank down, their breaths hissing through their teeth in tandem. Slowly she began to move, up and down, up and down, adding a little swivel every time she sank her velvety softness onto him once more.

Sam gritted his teeth, trying to avoid thoughts of how damn good she felt around his cock. It wasn’t working; every time she shifted a new wave of pleasure rolled under Sam’s skin. In desperation to not completely embarrass himself he reached down to where their bodies joined and worked his fingers around, trying to find the little button that had so recently been in his mouth. When he thought he found it he pinched and was rewarded with a tight clench from the muscles of Jess’ pussy. He did it again, working his fingers in time with Jess’ increasingly uneven thrusts. Finally, long after Sam was sure he had ground his teeth down to nothing, Jess came again, shaking and falling bonelessly onto Sam, her hair over his neck and face.

That was all it took for Sam; one last upwards thrust of his hips had him coming apart beneath her, his eyes squeezed shut, colors bursting like kaleidoscope chips on the back of his eyelids. At some point in time Sam managed to turn his head to look at the clock. “You’ve missed your 8am,” he whispered to Jess, his voice deep and gravelly and totally lacking any form of urgency.

“Worth it,” she mumbled, still plastered to Sam’s front, her breaths languid, their ribcages moving together. Basking in the afterglow, they fell back asleep.

Within a forenight Jess learned that she had created a monster. Sam’s sexual appetite, long suppressed, seemed to be making up for lost time. He would run his fingers between her legs at dinner if they sat on the same side of the table, no moving vehicle was safe, and they had done it on every reasonably flat surface of her room. She loved it.

She also came to the gradual realization that she loved Sam, too. She loved how observant he was- she’d mentioned that roses were lame, so when finals finally ended Sam brought her a little container of daisies- she loved the way his mind worked, how he could sit and chew over all the aspects of an argument and then decimate it with simply stated logic. She loved his smell and the way he moved in his sleep. She even loved his faults; how stubborn he was, how he insisted on taking care of her even when she didn’t want it.

In May Sam and Jess and two of their friends moved into an old house off campus. The shower pressure sucked, the burners on the stove were lopsided, and Sam had never been happier. This was _his_ house, with _his_ girlfriend. It was _their_ bed now, and he did not want that to change, not at all.

Their second Christmas together passed in a blur. Sam dragged home a Christmas tree one day, and Jess suspected he’d pulled it out of the woods somewhere, but it just added to the gesture. They decorated it with candy canes and paper snowflakes and a string of lights that Jess had found in the damp basement of the old house. On Christmas Eve they rode back downtown to retrace their steps of the previous year, laughing at the harried customers, keeping each other warm with heated looks over a shared coffee. Christmas morning found Jess and Sam digging through their stockings- they both had had the idea to play Santa for the other.

Jess found that Sam had been paying much closer attention to her than she had previously thought- he’d picked up an pair of antique hair clips she’d admired a local flea market, bought a package of bulbs for the cracked stone planters by the front door- “We’ll plant them together in the spring”- and a tiny vial of her favorite perfume.

Sam’s stocking was full of packing peanuts and a tiny folded piece of paper- “Look under the couch cushion” it read. Gamely Sam rose to his feet and began flipping up the cushions, finding a brown paper package under the middle seat. He ripped off the packaging to find a signed copy of _Odd Thomas_ by Dean Koontz.

“It’s used,” Jess told him, “But the way Odd talks, the way he looks at life and really owns nothing, it reminded me of you.” Sam leaned over to kiss her, the book pinned between their chests.

Midnight of New Years found them naked on the floor in front of the drafty old fireplace that provably let more smoke into the house than it funneled out, but Jess and Sam didn’t seem to care. Jess had insisted that they try to wait til midnight, but two bottles of cheap champagne and a very persuasive Sam Winchester had put the kibosh on that. It was arguably the happiest holiday season of their lives- they had each other, someone to celebrate and cuddle, but no real responsibilities, not yet. For now they were free to revel in the moment, to fuck like rabbits, to waste entire days watching old science fiction movies.

On a rainy Tuesday in March Sam bought an engagement ring. He and Jessica had discussed what they wanted to do after graduation only in the most abstract way, but Sam really didn’t care what they did or where they went so long as he could continue to be with Jess. He had just sent off his last law school application, but when Jess asked what his fist choice was he’d only shrugged. Jess was his first choice; home was any four walls around her. That had led him to the little jewelry store on the other side of town, selecting a classic diamond setting that emptied his bank account but made his heart sing.

He carried the ring with him for the next two months, terrified that if he hid it at home Jess would find it. It was so much heavier than the few ounces it actually was, weighted by all of the hopes and dreams Sam had hung on it. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, but he thought he’d know when he was supposed to ask.

Graduation loomed, and Sam was tentatively accepted to all of the law schools to which he’d applied, pending an interview. The first was on the third Monday in May; an interview that could change the course of his whole future.

The Friday before the big interview, Sam walked down to pick Jess up from a celebratory costume party. She was dressed as a nurse, and Sam had _plans_ for that little outfit when they got home. “Studying for the interview go well?” she asked, leaning into Sam’s side.

“Yeah, I think I’m about as ready as I’ll ever be. Thanks for sending me that page of commonly asked questions, that really helped. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said, kissing the top of her head. She smelled like clean sweat from dancing, and cheap beer from the party, but under all of that she smelled like Jess.

“Crash and burn, baby, so it’s a good thing you’ve got me,” she teased back.

Sam mentally agreed- he’d decided to propose after the interview if everything went as planned; to get down on one knee and ask Jess if could spend the rest of his life trying to take care of her half as well as she took care of him.

That night after the nurse outfit had been torn off and the sheets had been kicked and twisted off of the bed, Sam slipped downstairs to get water and shove a load of bedding in the washer. He heard a low thump behind him, like a muffled footfall.

“Oof!” The air was forced from his lungs when he was tackled to the living room floor.

“You’re out of practice, Sammy,” a vice drawled from above him. Sam’s nose was hit with the smell of leather, car wax, wood smoke, and whiskey; a particular combination of smells that, when mixed together, spoke of his childhood.

“Dean?” he asked, shoving against the shoulders over him, barely dislodging his brother.

“Got a nice place here, Sammy,” Dean continued casually, looking around.

Jess came down to see what was going on, her stomach bared by the short smurf shirt she was wearing.

“Hey,” said Dean, looking her up and down.

Sam dragged Dean out of the house, leaving a very confused Jess standing in the kitchen. The brothers argued; Sam had no interest in going hunting now- he’d successfully been out for four years; he’d refused to help when Dean had appeared in his freshman year too.

“Dad left on a hunting trip and hasn’t been back in a few days,” Dean insisted, and Sam felt a gentle but insistent tug of family loyalty. Finally Sam broke, agreeing to accompany Dean only after being promised that he would be back in time for the interview on Monday. Dean had rolled his eyes but agreed; muttering about hoity-toity lawyers under his breath.

Sam returned inside to grab a bag and reassure Jess.

“You’re going off now?” she asked in disbelief. Her logical Sam would never just go off like this. “What about the interview on Monday?”

He kissed her quickly. “I’ll be back in plenty of time for that. Look, it’s a family thing, and I promise I will explain it all to you when I get home.”

Jess sighed. “I’ll work the office for you tomorrow,” she said.

Sam wrapped his arms around his girl, wishing he could have explained everything earlier. “What would I do without you?” he asked gently, pressing several brief kisses to her cheeks and lips.

“Crash and burn,” she said back wryly, taking comfort in their little ritual. With one last kiss Sam was out the door, the old wooden frame clicking shut behind him.

Sam came home exhausted and guilty. He’d done well on the case, even his older brother had praised him for the way he handled the woman in white. The guilt was for the look on Dean’s face when he’d asked Sam to stay- “You can do it on your own, Dean,” he’d said, insisting his brother take him back home.

Dean’s face had fallen and then locked in an expressionless mask. “I know,” he’d replied heavily. “But I don’t want to.”

Sam looked through the house for Jess and concluded that she must have gotten bored and gone out with friends. He flopped back onto their bed, his eyes closed, his fingers gently touching the engagement ring though the material of his shirt pocket. He took a deep breath, thinking that maybe he could catch a nap before getting ready for the interview. Stomach clenching, he thought about how much was riding on tomorrow going well.

Something dripped onto his forehead, and Sam internally groaned. He was not prepared to deal with the roof leaking again. Resignedly opening his eyes, his gaze fell on something far worse than a wet patch of plaster ceiling- Jess was suspended above him, her eyes and lips wide, hair fanned around her head, a deep red stain spreading quickly over the white cloth on her abdomen.

Sam jolted off the bed in horror, a cry leaving his throat just as Jess burst into flames, her lips moving in a silent scream, the whole ceiling consumed in heat.

Somebody slammed into Sam- Dean, it was Dean- and he was being dragged out the door, screaming Jess’ name the whole way.

The night passed in a blur of policemen and firefighters and pushy news reporters. Sam was numb, answering the police and arson investigator’s questions on autopilot. Dean stayed with him, snapping at any reporters who got too pushy.

Sam held a memorial service Wednesday. There wasn’t a body to bury, but he’d paid to have a marker put up in the little cemetery where Jess’ aunt was buried. He’d accessed Jess’ trust to pay for the service; after all, she wouldn’t be needing the money for anything else.

When the other students had left and the minister had shaken Sam’s hand and quietly walked away, Sam approached the freshly cut granite marker. Jess’ picture smiled up at him, forever immortalized at a golden 22.

He shuffled on the prickly grass, a plastic –wrapped bouquet of wildflowers in his hands. “I know you thought roses were lame,” he mumbled, looking at the little picture. “So I… oh, God, Jess,” he trailed off, tears pricking his eyes. He dropped the flowers to her grave and stepped away. He didn’t have anything left to say.

Dean drive them in silence back to the house. Sam changed out of his suit and hung it neatly. He took his jeans and his flannels and a few other things and folded them into his bag. In the threshold of the bedroom- _their_ bedroom- he looked back, eyes raking over the place one last time. It still held his books and her movies. Her laundry was still in the corner, waiting to be washed. He backpack leaned against the open closet door where she’d dropped it after her last final.

Sam walked out of the house and threw his bag in the trunk of the Impala; slamming the lid he dictated, “We’ve got work to do.”

In the next few months Sam would stop flinching every time he heard a Harry Potter quote. Within a year he would stop carrying the engagement ring, instead he stowed it in the trunk of the car. Within four years he would sell it when hustling pool wasn’t enough, and his heart would break all over again.

Driving away from that house, _their_ house, Sam didn’t know that he would loyally read and watch every Harry Potter book and movie that would be released- even though he had to steal more than one copy to accomplish this- as a testament to Jess. He didn’t know that he would come to love and be betrayed by a demon, or that he would be the one to trigger the beginning of the apocalypse.

Sam didn’t know the staggering number of people he would save, the immeasurable amount of good that he would do for the world. But even if Sam had known, even if he knew that he would become a hero in the eyes of so many, Sam would have agreed with Jess. As the Impala pulled onto the interstate the night of the funeral, Sam could only think one thing- that without Jess, he really would crash and burn.


End file.
